Penny Lane
by Elsie Bubbles
Summary: On summer holiday Molly comes across an acquaintance from college, Sherlock Holmes. (unilock aged, not set at university)
1. Come Together

**Come Together**

'Was that…?' Molly thought to herself, stopping in her tracked as she walked past the aisles of the super market. She dared not finish the thought as she quickly backtracked to look down the aisle she had just passed.

But it was. The dark, curly head visible above the rest of the people around definitely belonged to him, to –

"Sherlock Holmes!" she heard herself exclaim.

As he looked her way she felt her cheeks go pink, or, quite possibly, red. They had never really been close, or much anything beyond acquaintances. Molly watched, chewing her bottom lip as his eyebrow rose curiously. He plucked a bottle from the shelf and sauntered down the aisle toward her.

"Er, hi," she managed as he approached.

"Molly," he greeted.

They stood in an uncomfortable silence for some time until Molly managed to find her words, "Sorry, it's just… I never see familiar faces anymore. Everyone else stays in the city for the summer. Except me. And you, apparently."

"Apparently," Sherlock repeated.

"Well, what have you been up to?" Molly asked, deciding to urge them both to walking through the store.

"University. Chemistry. Doing everything in my power to irritate my brother."

Molly smiled up at him as they walked, "Right, you were always brilliant in chemistry."

She waited to be asked of her own doings since college, and when no inquiry came, she supplied an answer anyway, "I'm in uni also, in –"

"Biology and chemistry," Sherlock interrupted knowingly.

"Er, right. How did you…?"

They looked at each other for a long moment before Sherlock's perceptive abilities and his school-hood habits came to her mind.

"Right, I remember," Molly laughed.

Sherlock smirked down at her before continuing walking.

They wandered through the store together, Molly chattering about people from school they had both known. Sherlock remained reserved but friendly, even reaching for things hidden away on higher shelves unreachable to Molly.

At the checkout they parted ways, "It was nice to see you," Molly smiled, loading her items onto the conveyor belt.

"You should come over tonight," Sherlock suggested, somewhat distantly.

Molly regarded him curiously, "Why?"

Sherlock's eyebrows rose before she corrected herself, "What's going on tonight? That's all I meant."

She watched him shrug, "Nothing, I suppose. But there will be alcohol," he nodded to his basket, "And I find you… Interesting."

"Oh," Molly felt her cheeks go red again, "Well, I, okay. When?"

"Half-nine."

"Bit late, isn't it?"

"Perhaps. But by then my parents won't bother us. And then I can tell my brother to piss off without getting a smack over the back of my head."

Molly giggled, an odd reaction even for her, before nodding, "I'll see you then," she answered as she paid her bill and left the store.

* * *

It was a quarter after nine and Molly found herself half out the door of her parents' house answering questions.

"Where are you going?"

"To Sherlock Holmes' house."

Molly watched her parents exchange a look.

"What?" she demanded.

"Will you be drinking?" her mother asked.

"Maybe a bit."

"Well… Don't take the car," her father decided, "If you need to, you can call for a ride home."

"It's okay. I'll be okay to walk."

There was an uncomfortable silence before Molly relented, "Okay, I'll call."

Her father nodded and Molly slipped out the door.

The evening was warm and quiet. Molly looked on in fascination as she walked, tiny bugs swarmed about the street lights above her and at the illuminated windows of the houses she passed.

When she reached Sherlock's home she found him outside, distinguishable only by the glowing orange circle of his cigarette as it moved fluidly through the air.

"Hey," she called, trying to sound casual, and mentally kicking herself as she heard how anxious she sounded.

Sherlock drew the cigarette from his moth and nodded in greeting. He dropped the finished butt to the ground, and stubbed it out with his toe before leading her inside.

Molly followed him to a room in the corner of the house, "My room," he supplied, closing the door behind them.

She carefully stepped out of her flats as she looked around the room. Sherlock had settled on his bed in one corner, to his left sat a desk with a small fish tank; the desk's chair was piled with clothes. His wardrobe and a bookshelf took up the remaining space in the tiny room. The walls were plastered with papers and maps, the one exception being a periodic table of elements directly opposite his bed. Molly smiled when she noticed his eyes on her.

Sherlock held out a bottle of wine and Molly settled at the foot of the bed, reaching for the bottle.

They say in silence for some time, passing the wine between them. Sherlock broke the silence while Molly studied the bottle, "A wine connoisseur?" he asked.

"No," she answered, smiling, "I was just curious as to the flavours in it."

"Anything interesting?"

"Tobacco."

She watched Sherlock's brows quirk upwards before he nodded and reached for the bottle. As he drank Molly took in the boy's long, pale neck and its movement as he swallowed. She tore her eyes from him as his head went forward once more, inspecting the bottle's contents, then looking back to her face.

"Your cheeks are a bit flushed," he commented.

"Wine does that," she sighed.

Suddenly he was standing. Molly watched curiously as he circled the bed to stand in front of her. He was already so much taller than she, but her sitting didn't help matters. Cautiously, he leaned toward her, closer and closer, until his face was mere centimetres from her own.

"Close your eyes," he commanded softly.

She did, and as soon as she had, Sherlock's lips pressed gently against hers. They lingered, waiting for her, and as she felt him move away, Molly lunged forward and returned the kiss.

It was slow and sweet. Molly shivered when she felt Sherlock's tongue press gently at her lower lip. His hands were cupping her face, tenderly lifting her lips up in reach of his own. Molly's hands moved to cradle his, her fingers brushing his wrists. She opened her mouth, allowing his tongue to dance with her own and Sherlock groaned softly.

All too soon Sherlock had pulled away. Molly fought to open her eyes, to take her hands back. She looked up in awe at the boy she had known for years but never really knew.

Molly watched as Sherlock straightened his back. His lips were darker, slightly swollen; his eyes were bright, pupils dilated. A slight flush had crept across his cheeks. He seemed to move extremely quickly as he spun around and moved to sit at his desk chair, on top of the clothes. His breathing was fast

"Are you drunk?" he asked.

Molly started, confused. His tone wasn't accusatory, it was curious and desperate.

"No," she answered truthfully, "I mean, I wouldn't drive, but that's… Safety first and all that."

Sherlock nodded before speaking once again, "In school I wanted you. But you were so small… And I tried to convince myself that I didn't need physical intimacy. Or contact of any sort. And then in uni I broke down and I slept with people. I fucked people. And I forgot about my _crush _on you. Until today when you called my name and I saw you again. And you're still small, delicate. But I won't hurt you. Because you've fucked people too – although you probably use a more romantic term. And I want you. And I want you to want me."

The words sounded odd, beyond what she knew to expect from him. He didn't sound as though he had finished speaking, but nothing more came from his mouth. Molly's head was spinning. Crush? Sherlock wanted her? Sherlock Holmes. Crush. He was looking at her expectantly.

"Crush?" Molly repeated, not wholly trusting her ears.

Sherlock buried his hands in his hair in frustration before answering 'yes.'

Molly felt a smile creep uncontrollably onto her face, "Now I'm glad my brain-to-mouth filter stopped working today." She marvelled at the sight of Sherlock's head jerk up at her words.

"I… Everyone wanted you in school, Sherlock. And I had forgotten my… Crush until today as well. But even if I had never wanted you, that kiss would have convinced me."

Sherlock smirked at her words.

"And you won't hurt me. I'm just worried about your family being here."

Sherlock's body twisted about and Molly's eyes followed. From desk drawer he pulled a condom free from a ribbon of them and he spoke, "My parents' room is upstairs on the other side of the house. Mycroft has decided he had better ways to spend his time and left this afternoon."

He stood and walked to stand in front of Molly, "Unless you're a screamer we should be safe."

A chill ran down Molly's spine as Sherlock ran his finger from her temple down her neck.

"Are you a screamer, Molly?"

Molly smirked, feeling on cloud-nine, "I can keep it under control."

She grinned at Sherlock's grin.

* * *

Molly lay naked above Sherlock. His head was resting on a pillow; his legs were stretched out before him, pushing his blankets to the foot of the bed. His arms were wrapped around Molly's body, pushing her breasts to his chest. She could feel his cock hardening against her as his lips sucked her tongue into his mouth.

A shiver ran through her body as Sherlock's arms began to drift down her back. She heard herself giggle as he kneaded her buttocks, pulling them apart playfully. His fingers danced across her cunt and she heard his approving hum upon discovering just how wet she really was.

Molly's mouth fell open as Sherlock pushed a long finger inside her, reminding her that this was real. She sucked a retaliatory mark into the skin at the side of his neck as his fingers probed, finishing it off with a bite. Sherlock gasped and looked into her eyes, making Molly grin.

Molly whimpered at the slight loss of his finger as Sherlock withdrew, returning his arms to hold her torso to his and suddenly she was on her back beneath him. She propped herself up on her elbows as Sherlock drew away to kneel between her legs. She stared unabashedly, her eyes caressing Sherlock's lean body, wonder filling her thoughts as she discovered muscles in his chest and abdomen. Finally her eyes took in his hands carefully opening the condom packet.

She knew his eyes were fixed steadily on her as he pushed the condom over his thick cock. His hands paused at his base and Molly's eyes flicked up to meet his, nodding slightly as they held one another's gaze. Then his body was covering Molly's. Their mouths met sloppily, desperately, and Molly felt Sherlock's arm moving between them. Then, he was pressing at her entrance. Sherlock broke away from Molly's mouth, watching her face as he pressed inside her body.

Molly bit her lip and wrapped her arms more securely around Sherlock's neck. She savoured the gentle stretch his body created in her own. Dimly she heard him murmur her name, sending a shiver down her spine. He held still within her until Molly impatiently wrapped her legs around his hips. The movement pressed Sherlock deeper, causing the man to groan loudly.

"And you were worried about _me_," Molly joked breathlessly.

"Stubbed my toe," he responded quickly as he began to move.

His pace was quick and hard, and was encouraged, Molly could tell, by her soft moans. The sensation of his cock filling her over and over again was delicious, but not enough to get her off.

She let her hand drift down her body and began rubbing her clit in time with Sherlock's increasingly erratic thrusts. His cock brushed her fingers on every in-thrust.

Soon they were falling. Molly's cunt clenched around Sherlock who's hips stuttered as he emptied himself with a muffled groan, his teeth digging into Molly's shoulder.

Molly whimpered once more when Sherlock carefully withdrew from her body. Her eyes followed his glorious body as he moved from the bed to deposit the condom in the bin next to his wardrobe, then return to the bed. He flopped down gracelessly beside her and turned his head to press a kiss to Molly's temple.

Gradually, Molly's breath returned to her. She could tell from the breaths she heard from Sherlock that his was regular, too, or at least near regular.

"I'm torn," Sherlock muttered absently.

"How?"

Sherlock shifted to his side to speak. Molly turned her head and caught his eyes skimming her body thoughtfully, "I want to bury you under the blankets and keep you all to myself until you have to leave. But I also want a cigarette."

Molly smirked and sat up. She pulled the blankets from where they had crumpled at the foot of the bed and covered her body with them.

"Well, whatever you decide, I'll be cuddled up right here," she sighed, pulling the fabric over her head.

She had to stop the loud squeal she wanted to make when Sherlock dove under with her.

* * *

**Notes**

This is the first in a series that I've written, all of which are inspired by Beatles songs, specifically song titles (don't worry, you're likely not missing Beatles symbolism). I just looked for song titles with which I could work.

There is a wine (likely others, too!) with tobacco used as an ingredient - Graffigna. It is Argentinian if you are interested in trying it and are old enough to try it (feel like I have to say that).

Obviously I don't own the characters. Not all the installments will me M/E rated and will be their own separate story, not chapters.

You can find me on Tumblr under the same name, elsiebubbles where I'll try to keep everything updated regarding this story!

Thanks! :)


	2. A Day in the Life

**A Day in the Life**

Molly had managed to sneak into her home without detection after she scurried away from Sherlock's. She mentally clapped herself on the back for remembering to skip the squeaky step as she flew up the stairs and into her bedroom. Closing the door behind her, she leant against the wood delicately and grinned to herself. _Of all the things that could have happened this summer… Sherlock bloody Holmes_.

Her mind was torn, however, from Sherlock by the loud, insistent buzzing of the alarm clock next to her bed. Sighing, she moved to turn off the annoying thing and grabbed a towel from the floor.

"Shower, breakfast, work," she mumbled to herself.

* * *

The morning was hectic. Dozens of kids under twelve and their parents were wandering about the tiny school gymnasium. Molly stood watching from her station, occasionally registering eight-to-ten-year olds – handing them nametags and a purple t-shirt, but more often directing confused parents to the station to which their child belonged, "No, you have to register him with the older group."

"Why can't _you_ register him?"

"My group is for eight-to-ten."

"What's the difference?"?

"It's for organisation and so that your eleven-year old isn't doing experiments meant for the youngest set."

"Well, where is that table?"

"Over there – with the sign that says 'ten-to-twelve'.''

"You could have just said…"

By the time the lunch break rolled around, Molly could only just manage to not roll her eyes out of annoyance. She was not yet in control of fifteen children and instead hid in the loos.

As she stared at her reflection in the mirror, Molly couldn't help but grin. She'd been forced to wear a scarf with her purple camp t-shirt, lest she show several love bites to half of the town. Sherlock really had been thorough.

Memories of the acquisition of the yellow marks around her neck flooded her mind. God, he'd been perfect… Molly could still feel his teeth on her skin, his fingers gripping her body. She could still feel his soft flesh under her hands…

She became aware of the reddening of her cheeks and cleared her throat loudly, "Not the time or the place, Molly. Get it together."

A knock sounded against the door, followed by a voice, "Anyone in the loos – camp activities start in five minutes!"

Molly straightened her stance and adjusted her scarf before pulling a small smile onto her face and rejoining the camp.

* * *

"My name is Eva and my favourite animal is monkeys!"

"My name is Dawson and I like dragons."

Your name and your favourite animal. It had been going around the large circle for far too long. Molly had had requests to ask again due to an inability to pick us one favourite, or had been asked permission to make two choices. It wasn't that she disliked the work, but, simply, she was very tired. Not only that, but they weren't doing any science activity until they had a full day, tomorrow. She could tell the kids were getting restless from the lack of stimulation.

Stimulation.

Molly's mind went to the night before, Sherlock's fingers rubbing at her clit as he moved insider her. Molly had to bite back her grin and shake her heard slightly before refocusing on the children around her.

"I'm Olivia and my favourite animals are mermaids."

"Mermaids aren't real!"

Molly's eyes watched Olivia carefully, "Yes they are!" her bright eyes clearly threatening to fill with tears.

"Okay," Molly announced, "Let's not interrupt the others! No one knows for sure that mermaids aren't real."

"Why not?!"

"Because they might live very deep in the ocean, too deep for humans to go."

The kids nodded seriously and Molly caught a smile lift Olivia's features one more, "Alright, who's next?"

When the kids had all been introduced Molly began giving them directions for the next day before she was interrupted by a waving hand in her circle, "Yes, Michael?"

"You didn't introduce yourself!"

"But you know my name," Molly protested.

"But we don't know your favourite animal"

Molly sighed, "Oh, alright. My name is Molly and my favourite animal is my cat."

"What's your cat's name?"

"Can I change my favourite to my rabbit?"

"I don't have a pet, but I like my cousin's hamster! Can he be my favourite?"

"Quiet down, please! Um, sure, you can change your favourite, but we're not going around the circle again, okay? My cat's name is Toby. Now – "

"Has your cat Toby got different colour fur on his hands?"

"Yes," Molly allowed, "Now please quiet down, we have to learn what to do for tomorrow!"

* * *

By the time Molly got home, the only energy she had left was to peel off her clothes and lay in bed until dinner.


	3. A Taste of Honey

**A Taste of Honey**

Sherlock sighed as he sprawled out on his bed. He was bored. Tremendously, spectacularly bored. At this time last night he was laying in the same spot, but naked, and with Molly Hooper laying above him, grinding her body against his and he sucked marks into the skin of her neck.

Tonight there was no naked girl. Or even a clothed one to undress. Only boredom. He checked his watch irritated – Molly had left seventeen hours again. He longed for her, to have her again.

Was it too late for a house call? Probably. Though judging by her difficulty leaving early this morning, Molly would not necessarily be opposed to his visiting.

Frustrated, Sherlock twisted to reach beneath his bed, grabbing the small bottle of lubricant he had stashed there. He pushed his pants from his hips and down to his knees before squirting a pool of lube into the palm of his hand. Molly had refused to leave without her knickers, so his memories of the night before would have to do.

* * *

She was working at a day camp for the month held by the local primary school. She had told him as they rested, her head had been pressed against his chest... His mind was wandering as he sat in silence at the kitchen table sipping his coffee while his parents went about their lives around him.

"What time does the day camp finish?" he finally spoke.

"I think you're a bit old for day camps, Sherlock," his father joked as he left the room.

Sherlock looked up, confused.

"Why?" his mother's voice came from spot at the sink.

"Molly Hooper is working there for the month."

"I didn't know you were friends with Molly Hooper. She's such a nice girl. Maybe she can get you a job."

"The time?" Sherlock pressed.

"I don't know, dear. Likely around four so parents can get away from work."

Sherlock's eyes shot to his watch spastically. Five hours.

Bye, Mum," he uttered quickly before dashing out the front door.

He wandered around town, avoiding the school like the plague, until he found a spot in the park to think. He needed a plan. He needed to have Molly and he needed a plan. He settled down in the grass, back against a tree, and he entered his mind palace.

* * *

Four o'clock neared and Sherlock was pacing under his tree going through his plan to have Molly while arousing no suspicions. Finally the time was close enough to move toward the school.

During his walk Sherlock encountered small groups of children walking in the opposite direction. He grinned to himself at his near perfect timing before positioning himself against a stone wall on the roadside. He learnt there, forcing his body to appear casual, and waited for Molly.

He spotted her immediately, her long hair whipping out in the light breeze, her hands holding down the skirt of her dress. _Perfect_.

"Molly," he called out as she neared him. He watched her smile brightly and speed her steps. She disappointed him slightly when she stopped a foot from him, he had expected her to fling her arms around his neck and press her lips to his. Sherlock saw the uncertainty in her eyes and pulled her to him by the hand. He kissed her eyelids, her forehead, her nose, and finally her lips before pulling back to look into her eyes, "Come with me," he murmured.

He watched her bite her lip contemplatively, "I don't know, Sherlock. I have to get home…"

"It can be quick," he promised, "I just need to have you."

A smile washed across her face and he led her down the road.

"Where are we going?" she asked as they walked.

"Somewhere out of the way."

They scurried forward, hand-in-hand. Finally, Sherlock found what he was looking for and pulled Molly out of the quiet road and through an iron gate at the roadside. They walked only a few metres into the field when they came across a circle of trees.

"Through here," Sherlock intoned, cocking his head forward.

He pressed Molly against a tree and brushed his lips against hers before he spoke once more, "We're completely covered here."

Sherlock felt his eyes flutter shut as Molly's fingers traced the neck of his shirt, lightly touching the marks she had left there, "What's going on, Sherlock?"

"I've been desperately bored since you left mine. I needed to see you, and, if you are agreeable, I'd like to taste you."

He knew his voice had gone gruff and as he opened his eyes he saw Molly's wide eyes on his mouth, pupils dilated.

Sherlock smirked at the girl before him and pressed forward, completely trapping Molly against the tree. He kissed her gently, marvelling at the smallest touches which gleaned the greatest reactions. When he nibbled Molly's bottom lip her breath hitched. When his hands pulled her's above her head so his fingers could run down her arms she writhed against him.

He heard her murmur his name desperately and he pulled away. The look on her face told him everything he needed.

Very carefully he knelt at her feet. Her legs spread easily at his silent command, giving him an unobstructed view of her. Well, nearly unobstructed: her knickers weren't much of anything in reality and left very little of Molly to the imagination.

"Now I understand your fighting to keep your skirt down," he commented, "Are these for me? Were you hoping I'd show up and take you?"

Molly laughed above him, "Sorry, this dress doesn't really allow for anything other than thongs."

"Oh well. They are still advantageous for me."

He reached up and pulled Molly's knickers to her feet, leaving her completely open to him. Sherlock laid sloppy, wet kisses up Molly's soft inner though, his mouth dangerously close to her cunt before switching to her other leg. He heard Molly's soft moan as he licked a hot stripe up her leg. He did this over and over, triumphing in the responses garnered from his alternating licks and kisses. After an unmeasurable amount of time Molly was whimpering desperately. Sherlock's mouth traveled teasingly up her right leg a final time before pressing his open mouth to Molly's now dripping cunt. She screamed breathlessly at the contact as Sherlock worked her purposefully.

Sherlock shuddered as the tart, lustful taste of her hit his taste buds. It was better than he could have imagined, dimly likening it to nectar as Molly moved against his face desperately. His hands were gripping Molly's soft thighs; his lips were sucking on every inch of wet flesh he could find.

When she began calling out wordless pleas, Sherlock changed tactics. He thrust his tongue into her, as far as he could reach, while his nose pressed persistently at her clitoris. As he fucked her with his tongue, Molly's screams had to be smothered with her hand – unfortunate as Sherlock had enjoyed her hands gripping and pulling at his hair.

Switching off once more, Sherlock quickly moved to suck Molly's clit between his lips, his tongue flicking against it rapidly. Molly came silently against his mouth, drenching his face in more of her juices.

Sherlock caught her as she slumped forward, settling them so he sat back against the tree – _their_ tree - and Molly leaned against his chest. After a while, Molly began laughing.

"Oh, you are amazing, Sherlock Holmes," Molly sighed as Sherlock looked down at her curiously.

He pressed a kiss behind her ear and waited for Molly's heart rate and breathing to normalise before he walked her home.


	4. Strawberry Fields Forever

**Strawberry Fields Forever**

Sherlock was sitting in the kitchen staring blankly at the tea pot in front of him but for a grin plastered to his face. The afternoon had been incredible. Molly had tasted incredible, sounded incredible, looked incredible. When he closed his eyes he could see her writhing against him.

"Sherlock!"

His mother's voice filtered unpleasantly though his thoughts, trying to get his attention.

"What?"

A piece of paper was thrust in front of his face forcing him to pull back in order to see the words properly.

"Yes, what about it?"

"You're going. Starting tomorrow."

"Why?!" Sherlock protested.

"Because you haven't got any money," his father's voice sounded from the sitting room.

"Yes," his mother agreed, "And because you need to do something for the holiday. I won't have you wreaking havoc due to a lack of entertainment."

Sherlock groaned loudly as he forcefully set his head against the table top.

* * *

He stood on the edge of a field watching a small group divide and chose rows to work. It was nearly seven o'clock in the morning – too early to bother doing anything.

Except, perhaps, sex with Molly.

Sherlock shook the thought from his head and approached the clear leader of the group.

"Morning! You're new, yeah?"

The woman's perky voice was grating on his sleep-deprived brain. Sherlock nodded in affirmation.

"Great! What's your name?"

"Sherlock Holmes."

The woman scrawled his name in her notebook and looked up to him once more, "Have you ever picked strawberries before?"

"No."

"Okay, well, let's get you started, then!"

* * *

Ten minutes later Sherlock sat in a narrow row, flanked by strawberry planets. In front of him were a dozen wooden boxes to fill with "only the nicest" strawberries.

The work itself wasn't bad, nor was it difficult. It seemed to be more of an occupation for his hands while his mind could wander. He filled his first box quickly and set it behind him, moving forward to being his next box. Before long there was a tap on his shoulder.

"You see these?" an older man commented, nodding toward Sherlock's completed box.

"Yes."

"They're too pale." The man began picking through the box, plucking the pale berries out and letting them fall to the ground. By the time the man finished, half of Sherlock's box was gone.

"You'll have to find riper ones," the man said, handing the box to Sherlock, "Let me see the one you're working on."

Sherlock handed the box over grudgingly, watching in trepidation as the man sifted rough the box.

"These are all better," the man proclaimed, tipping the box's contents into the first, "There, you've got a full box now."

As the man walked away Sherlock groaned. He turned his attention back to the strawberries, relieved he at least know what he was looking for.

Sherlock was on his fifth box when there came another tap on his shoulder. He looked up to find the perky woman from before stooping over him.

"You're missing quite a lot," she intoned, showing him the box she had in hand, "You really have to rummage through the vines when the plants are thick like this, see?" she pushed aside a clump of leaves to uncover large, red strawberries.

Sherlock nodded and turned to his work, listening as the woman made her way back down his row and into that of another picker. As he sifted through the vines, the search for the strawberries proved to become easier.

* * *

It was half-twelve when Sherlock finished the last of his boxes. Having filled his first dozen, he collected more boxes on three occasions totalling four dozen boxes of strawberries. He marked his place and moved to the group's leader at the edge of the field.

"Done?" she asked.

Sherlock nodded as she checked her notebook, "You got four dozen boxes today. I'll keep a tally every day and you get paid at the end of each week, okay? It's five pounds per dozen boxes. I'll give you a slip then and you take it to the office across the road, yeah?"

Sherlock nodded again before moving to leave the field.

"Good job today, Sherlock. Oh! By the way, you lucked out today. Tomorrow you should bring some water, as well as insect repellant, okay? Believe me, it's a lot easier to work when you're not swatting at flies all morning."

Once more, Sherlock nodded before leaving the field.

As he walked, Sherlock found he had no desire to go home yet. Instead, he wandered the field to which he had brought Molly the day before and sat amongst the cluster of trees. He closed his eyes and slipped into his mind palace.

* * *

At four o'clock, Sherlock was waiting along the land for Molly to come along. Though he wasn't sure why, he wanted to hear about her day, and to tell her about his. As he waited he realised the state of his hands – dyed red by the strawberries. He stared in disbelief until Molly skipped up to him.

"What have you been doing?" Molly asked, a musical laugh escaping her throat as she spotted his red hands.

"None of your business, Molly," he teased, grabbing her hand in his and leading them down the lane to their homes, "How was work?"

"Great! We're putting flowers in water with food colouring in and seeing the change in colour after they've been left over night."

Sherlock gazed at her as she spoke and smiled as her eyes met his, "I also had to tie shoe laces and cut up someone's sandwich properly – in _four_ triangles rather than two."

"I thought you had older children."

"I do, but at lunch any leader is fair-game. I think they like me because I don't have to scrunch down to hear them talk."

Sherlock laughed, his hand squeezing hers playfully.

"It's true!" Molly continued, "Everyone else there is at least three inches taller than me. Who'd have thought all the tall people would go for the sciences?"

They continued down the road slowly, "So, what did you do with your day?"

Sherlock let go of her hand to raise both of his before her, "I picked strawberries," he sighed before grasping her hand once more.

"Really? How was that?"

He shrugged, "Uneventful. My parents told me I had to… It pays, I suppose."

"And you get to be in the sun," Molly commented.

"Until it rains."

Molly laughed before dragging their hands to her nose, "Mm, you smell like strawberries."

Sherlock watched her curiously as her eyes flicked to his and then away in both directions.

Suddenly he was being pulled behind an abandoned building by the hand, "Molly, what - ?"

She pushed him against the wall and readjusted her grip on his hand. Peering into his eyes, she brought his hand to her mouth and let his index finger slip into her mouth. Sherlock gasped as she worked his finger, her tongue laving over the digits, sucking the strawberry flavour from his hand. She changed fingers in quick succession and by the time she switched to his other hand he was weak-kneed, his hips thrusting into open air. Molly's gaze never left his as she sucked on his fingers.

"Come over," he gasped as her tongue swirled around his smallest finger, "Tonight."

Molly let the fingers from her mouth with a 'pop' before grinning up at him, "Okay," she answered simply.

* * *

**Notes**

May or may not have been inspired by summer jobs of my past. I'm a bit unsure of the £5 pay, I don't know if it's too much (because I want it more or less set when the Sherlock and Molly we see on TV would have been in uni - 90s-ish). So, yeah, I guessed.

Find me on tumblr at elsiebubbles!


	5. She Came in Through the Bathroom Window

**She Came in Through the Bathroom Window**

"I'm going out!" Molly called, slipping a jacket over her t-shirt and shorts. She waited a moment for the inevitable questions – 'Where are you going? When will you be home?' – but heard no response called from the sitting room. She moved swiftly, closing the door firmly behind her as she left.

The night was drizzly and humid. By the time she reached Sherlock's she knew that had she been wearing trousers they would be soaked through completely. Molly stood at the path to the house, glancing around for a sign of Sherlock, or for any other signs of life. The house was as dark as Sherlock had said it would be: all lights on the ground floor were off with only slight illumination visible through the front windows – the light coming from Sherlock's room in the back of the house. Upstairs there was one room lit softly. It went dark as Molly stood at the path.

Sherlock had told her not to knock or ring the bell and to wait for him, but it was rainy and miserable outside. Molly made a fast decision – _Window_.

Soundlessly, she moved around the side of the house and into the back garden. She snuck along the house until she came to what she was almost certain was the bathroom window. Carefully she pushed the window open, cringing as it made a slight squeaking noise. "It could be anything," she muttered to herself.

She hoisted herself up and got one leg through the window, then squeezed her body inside. She managed to stretch her leg down to touch the floor and pull herself completely inside, closing the window behind her. Molly grinned to herself, her reflection _just_ visible in the mirror in front of her, before quietly leaving the bathroom.

She crept along the hallway, smiling as she approached Sherlock's open door. Molly made her way across the threshold and into the room before she spotted him just to the side of her.

"Hello, Molly," he murmured, his hand wrapped around his prick. He was completely naked and moved past Molly gracefully, pulling her farther into this room and shutting the door.

"You heard me, then?" Molly asked nervously, her breath hitching.

"Only the window open," he said with a shrug. He pressed Molly against his closed door and pressed his mouth to hers. His lips were fierce against Molly's, relentless. Eventually she had to pull away, gasping for air, Sherlock making breathing difficult as he pulled gasps and moans from Molly as he kissed, licked, and nibbled at her throat.

Suddenly he pulled away, leaving Molly to sag gently against the door, "You're wearing too much clothing, Molly," he decided, moving backward, cock in hand once more, to sit on his bed. Molly licked her lips at the sight of him, naked and glorious, before bringing her hands to the zipper of her jacket.

* * *

Sherlock's hand was pressed tightly against Molly's mouth as he pounded into her. His body was draped across her back and Molly revelled in his weight resting on her. Her mouth opened against his hand as she felt his body shift slightly, driving his cock more deeply inside her body, her answering moan was almost entirely muffled.

She could feel herself spiralling to orgasm as Sherlock's hips became more sporadic. His hand moved slowly, deliberately down her body, the sensation resonating deep within her body, until it came to rest _just_ in reach of her clit. Behind her, Sherlock pushed into her body a final time and froze, his body shuddering as he came. Molly whimpered as he bit down on her shoulder, muffling a moan of his own. Moments later he was rubbing at her clit insistently. Molly ground herself against his hand and wailed as she came. Sherlock was pressing kisses to her back as she shuddered and slowly came back to herself.

As Sherlock drew out of her and moved from his bed, Molly slumped over to her side and rolled lazily to her back. Her breath was quick and she could just glimpse the splotchy, pink flesh across her chest. Sherlock soon joined her, lying beside her as his hand twined with her own. Molly smiled when Sherlock brought their hands to his mouth and kissed each of her fingers. The gesture was sweet, loving… Confusing.

"Sherlock?"

"Hm?"

"What… What are we, exactly?"

She felt Sherlock's head turn sharply to see her properly and turned her head to meet his eyes. She saw confusion and apprehension; could practically see his brain working to find an answer, _the_ answer. She bit her lip as she waited.

"I don't know," he finally answered, "We… Get along well. And have… _Fun_ together…"

His words faded to a halt and Molly watched his eyes flick across her face, trying to read her. Carefully, she reached out to him, letting her fingers glide along his jaw line. When he didn't (or couldn't) speak, Molly jumped in, "I think we're at least on the same page," she stated, "I like what we're doing and I care for you. But I don't know yet if I want more. Is that… Kind of where you are?"

Sherlock considered her words before nodding.

Molly smiled, which was returned by Sherlock, and gripped his hand more tightly. They lay in silence for some time, their breaths regulating, their bodies recovering. Molly's eyes were fluttering closed contentedly when suddenly Sherlock was above her, his hands pulling her arms above her head and securing them in one of his. Molly giggled, squirming as his mouth latched onto hers, his other hand going to her chest. Dimly, she heard him murmur "Interesting," before pressing his tongue to Molly's lower lip.


	6. Good Morning, Good Morning

**Good Morning, Good Morning**

Sherlock was started awake, the obnoxious buzzing sound filling his room. He groaned quietly, loathe to move, to even turn to slap a hand on the 'off' button, loathe to do anything to disturb Molly who was resting in his arms. But the alarm was so annoying...

Reluctantly he pulled his body from hers and soon the room was filled with the quiet of early morning. He turned his attention back to Molly. Her back arched in a stretch, pushing her head closer to Sherlock's face, allowing him to breathe in the intoxicating scent of her. The movement also pressed her bottom to Sherlock's groin and he had to work to push away that particular want. There wasn't enough time. She soon turned over, a small smile on her mouth, warmth in her eyes, "Good morning," she murmured sleepily.

"Morning."

"I don't want to get out of bed."

Sherlock smirked as her face pulled into a pout, "Nor do I."

Molly moved closer to press a kiss to Sherlock's chest before sitting up. Sherlock's hand went automatically to stroke her back, the flesh so inviting. He watched her head fall back appreciatively as his hands pressed and kneaded, wishing he were positioned so he could kiss her neck as he worked her muscles.

Before long Molly was moving once more, "Okay, enough. If I don't go now I never will and then the camp will get cross."

Sherlock chuckled and swung his legs off the bed.

"Want to go to the field again today?" Molly purred as she dressed.

Sherlock felt his head jerk up – probably too eagerly, but Molly's answering giggle soothed him, "I suppose we could go," he answered casually, "What on Earth did you want to do there?"

Molly grinned and shrugged, "I don't know. I'm sure we can find _something_ to do, though." She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Sherlock's neck.

His hands gripped her waist as Molly pressed a small kiss to his lips.

"Shall I pick you up at our usual spot?"

Before Molly could answer the bedroom door rattled and opened. Molly jumped away from Sherlock and crossed her arms over her stomach in an attempted casualty.

"Sherlock, it's time to get up," his mother's distracted voice came from the hall, "You've got to be at the field in half an hour and don't you dare – Oh! Hello, Molly!"

"Good morning, Mrs. Holmes," Molly smiled weakly.

"How is the science camp fairing?"

Sherlock groaned, grabbing a shirt from the floor and pulling it on. His head whipped around, searching for an escape for Molly. He dashed to his desk and grabbed a set of slides from the middle drawer, then pushed them into Molly's hand, "Here you are, Molly, extra slides. Really, a science camp without enough slides…"

He watched Molly blink before smiling ad shrugging, "We ordered new ones, but the kids keep dropping them."

"Yes, well…"

"Right, I'll just be off, then."

Sherlock felt his mother's eyes following their conversation and made a fast escape with Molly, his hand pressed to her upper back, guiding her from his room and out the front door.

"Meet me," she whispered, grasping his hand as she turned to leave. He exhaled shortly before closing the door tightly.

"When did Molly get here?" his mother's voice sounded behind him.

"Five minutes ago."

"The door was locked."

Sherlock spun and moved to his room, "Molly is a small-statured young woman attending university in a large city. It is probably habit to lock the front door behind her. Don't worry, Mum, I'll make it to work.

He closed his bedroom door firmly and collapsed against it with a _thud_, a grin on his face.

* * *

Molly's hand was clasped in his before he even spotted her approaching form. She pulled him from his slouched position and together they made the journey down Penny Lane to the field and her home.

"Your mother _definitely_ knows," Molly sighed.

Sherlock scoffed, "Unless her intelligence level has dramatically increased, you can be assured that she remains completely clueless."

He stumbled slightly as Molly shoved at his shoulder, "Don't be mean, she gave you life."

They walked on, Sherlock's mind buzzing: ways to continue Molly's visits without rise of his parents' knowledge; when he could have her overnight again; how nice it felt to have her hand in his…

As they walked to the field, she spoke again, "So, where are your parents pretending to believe you're going in the afternoons?"

Sherlock felt is face slip into a mocking expression – his parents were completely clueless! But Molly only copied the expression before grinning, "Really though."

"They believe – one-hundred percent believe – that I have gone to a friend's."

"A friend?"

"Well… I _could_ have one. Bill Wiggins still lives in town."

"Uh huh."

Sherlock's' hand moved quickly to swat Molly's arse, pulling a happy squeal from her throat, "Even if they think I'm with you, they do not know that I have been debauching you in an empty field. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to lick your pretty cunt until you're begging."


	7. Help!

**Help!**

Molly's eyes darted to the clock, noting the time, before her gaze returned to the space in front of her. She was pacing, her mind threatening to tear in two pieces. Her family had gone to a football game of her brother's and the only person she had in town was working. It was nearly half-eleven, Sherlock was usually finished work by noon.

"Screw it," she muttered to herself.

She was out the door in seconds and walked briskly to the strawberry field. She was forced to put her frantic thoughts behind her as she walked, being hit by a car would not help matters.

The sky was a light grey, the sun trying unsuccessfully to poke through the thick clouds. Molly was grateful for the lack of sun, '_It would be a waste_,' she thought miserably, '_Of perfect weather to spend it so worried_.'

By the time Molly entered the field she had worked herself into another panic. Moving quickly, she sat down, back against a low stone wall, arms wrapped around her knees. She scanned the rows of plants, spotting Sherlock's lanky form in the distance as he walked carefully back and forth along the row. He made the trip six times and finally bent to pick up this tray, carrying it to the end of the section for the owners to collect. He spotted Molly immediately, spoke, then made his way to her.

An odd sense of guilt washed over Molly as his grin turned to an expression of concern. He knew she was upset. Did not, perhaps, know _why_ she was upset, but knew her expression and body language.

"Molly?" he called, hurrying his steps, "What's wrong?"

Molly stood as he came into her space and leaned into his chest as his arms wrapped around her shoulders. She let out a shaky breath before letting the words tumbled out, "My cat is missing and he's been gone for days and he's been gone before but not for this long and I'm really worried for him and I know there's nothing you can do but I'm just so scared for him!"

When Molly fell quiet she felt Sherlock's lips press to her hair. His hands were rubbing her back tenderly, "Okay, Molly, let's go to yours and we can figure out a plan, does that sound acceptable?" His voice was light, soothing, she could only nod in response.

* * *

Molly accepted the mug of tea Sherlock had pressed into her hands and wrapped both hands around it. Sherlock sat down beside her, is own tea on Molly's bedside table.

"When was the last time you saw Toby?"

"Before camp on Thursday."

"And where have you looked?"

"Around the garden, in the trees behind the house and around the neighbours'."

Molly sipped at her tea as Sherlock hummed in thought, "Well, it's only been a few days," he began, "He's likely not far. And even your house cat has basic hunting skills. He still has his claws, yes?"

Molly nodded, head turned to Sherlock.

"Well, I think we ought to go out and search the town. Ask people, took in trees… Bring a packet of his treats; he likely knows the sound they make in the packet."

Her eyes were set on Sherlock as he spoke. She hadn't expected him to be so helpful. _Kind_. Without thinking she moved closer and brought her knee up under her body, giving her a bit more height so she could press a soft kiss to his lips. When she pulled away they sat, eyes trained on one another, "Thank you," Molly murmured.

She watched his eyebrows rise before he moved in to kiss her. Their lips moved together delicately, mirroring their bodies' movements – Molly was still holding her mug of tea. When the kiss eventually ended Sherlock spoke, "If we don't leave now we won't get as much time to search." Molly nodded and stood, sighing as she did.

"Molly."

"Yes?"

"If we even have sex in your bed, I feel I have to request you hide your plush toys in the wardrobe."

At his speech, spoken so seriously, Molly could do nothing but burst into laughter.

"They're very disturbing!" he defended, making Molly laugh harder. She could hardly see his face from her closing, watery yes, but she knew he was smirking.

* * *

It had taken hours, it was nearly seven o'clock, but Sherlock and Molly trotted to Molly's house, cat tucked safely in her arms. She ticked the feline's head affectionately earning a purr.

"I can't believe you found him!" she tittered, grinning from Toby to Sherlock.

"I'm glad you're happy."

Sherlock clearly had some sort of network through the small town. They had talked to several people, looked through likely places shaking the packet of treats, and finally found him based on a tip of a café owner.

"Sherlock Holmes," Molly mused, "Pet Detective."

She stumbled as Sherlock pushed her gently to the side and giggled. As they entered her house, it was clear her family had not yet returned. Molly fed Toby and refilled his water bowl, smiling happily as she did. She only sat down with Sherlock when Toby was sleepily grooming himself in the sitting room.

"Thank you, Sherlock."

She'd already said it, said it a dozen times, but she needed to keep saying it.

"You've been stressed," he commented at length, "What do you say to visiting our spot? I can help you relax."

Molly eyed him suspiciously.

"Toby will be grooming for hours, he'll only become cross if you interrupt him. Come with me."

His smile was too sweet. Molly's eyes narrowed.

"Really Molly, I just want to get you off and I don't want to risk your parents coming home to see you building up to an orgasm.

Molly giggled and stood, "Well, when you put it like that…"

She pulled him up by the hand and led him out the door. They hurried the short, familiar-but-backwards walk and nearly ran from the field's entrance to the trees.

Molly felt the bark of the trees against her back as Sherlock trapped her there.

"Stay." Sherlock's voice was low, full of command. His tone sent a shiver down Molly's spine. Her eyes followed his face as he lowered himself to the ground to kneel in front of her. His hands wrapped around each of her thighs, massaging her flesh. They moved higher, pushing under the legs of her shorts, until his fingers could just touch the edge of Molly's knickers. Molly moaned as the fingers of one hand pushed under her knickers and stroked lightly along her folds. She didn't even notice the absence of his other hands until it was as the button of her shorts, loosening the garment and then pushing down the zipper.

* * *

Molly was panting, whimpering from the sensations shooting through her body, squealing as Sherlock's teeth nibbled on her earlobe. He was standing in front of her; very little space between them, their chests pressed together, Sherlock's fingers pressed deeply inside her. Molly could do nothing but widen her stance as Sherlock's fingers fucked her mercilessly. He was studiously avoiding contact with her clit, drawing their session out expertly. _I'll probably pass out first_, Molly thought warily.

Sherlock was murmuring observations in her ear. Observations about her body. She could only vaguely understand the words, her attention pulled in other directions. Dimly she heard his voice, growling out a question. She looked at him blankly, trying to listen more closely. Sherlock smirked down at her smugly, "So you don't want to come?"

Molly gawked at him, trembling as his fingers ceased their movement.

"No!" she gasped, "I do, I do want to come!"

Sherlock chuckled, "I asked you three times, Molly, with no answer."

His fingers thrust into her body slowly, his thumb softly stroking her clit. His laughter was still clear in his eyes.

"Please!" Molly moaned desperately, "Please, please!"

Her lips were soon occupied as Sherlock captured them with his own. His hand was rough and Molly was spiraling toward her orgasm. As Sherlock bit her bottom lip, she came, shuddering. Her moan was muffled by Sherlock's mouth, her body prevented from collapsing by Sherlock's arm around her waist.

"Since you said 'please'," Sherlock murmured.

Molly gasped a laugh as he held her safely against him. As she regained her breath she smiled up at him, taking in the warmth of his face.

"What?" he questioned.

Molly's smile widened to a grin. Moving quickly she escaped his grasp and pushed him against the tree. Sherlock groaned as her hand moved down his chest, over his stomach, to stroke him through his trousers, "I think you deserve a reward," she murmured.

She watched Sherlock's head fall back against the tree and rose to her tiptoes to press a kiss to his Adam's apple while her hands worked to open his trousers.

"Sherlock," she whispered, seeking his full attention.

His head moved forward, and when their eyes locked, Molly sank to her knees, dragging Sherlock's trousers and pants with her.

* * *

Notes

I was originally worked this after Please Please Me but it just wasn't working. Help!, however, works extremely well, I think!

I haven't been saying, but seriously thank you all for reading and follow-/favourite-ing and commenting and such! Seriously it means the world!


	8. With a Little Help from My Friends

**With a Little Help from My Friends**

"I can't stay. At all," Molly murmured between kisses. Sherlock had met her on her way from camp, but she would _not_ let him drag her into the field. Time passed too quickly when they were there and Molly had a train to catch.

"What am I supposed to do?" Sherlock rumbled jokingly as he nuzzled into her neck, "A weekend without you around. I may go mad with desire."

Molly laughed breathlessly, "Maybe I'll make it up to you."

"Maybe?" Sherlock's lips trailed up her neck to suck on her earlobe.

"Yes, _maybe_. But if I miss my train you won't get anything at all. And you can consider that a promise."

Sherlock's mouth left her ear and he pulled away so Molly could see his face, "I suppose that is fair," he relented before pressing his lips to hers. Their kiss was quick but soft, passionate, lingering. Molly could only grin at him as he pulled away.

"You're good at that, you know?" she joked.

Sherlock grinned back, "Come along, Miss Hooper, I'll walk you home. You have a train to catch."

* * *

A short car ride, two hours on the train, and a trip on the tube (as well as a desperate last-minute snog) and Molly was in London for the weekend. She was staying with friends, Meena and Catherine, for the two nights with the promise of '_An amazing time._' The city was mostly familiar now, and Molly found their flat easily. She had only just come in the door when Meena's voice rang amid the excited greetings, "Molly Hooper, who are you shagging?!"

She smirked as she took in Meena's smug expression and Catherine's look of surprise, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Meena stepped forward and swatted at Molly's arm, grinning, "And I suppose those bruises on your neck are from _really_ irritating bug bites?"

"I don't kiss and tell without delicious food and alcohol."

"Fair," Catherine stated, pulling Molly farther into the flat, "Food's ready, wine is poured; spill, woman!"

They sat and ate. Catherine had made her family's lasagne – Meena had "helped" by buying the wine. Sherlock's existence did not come up once as they caught up. Molly told her friends all about her summer camp job – her favourite stories, favourite kids. Meena told Molly about her work at a nearby nursing home, and Catherine of her "achingly dull" retail job.

"At least you get paid," Molly chimed happily.

"Yeah, money _is_ nice," Catherine grinned, "What exactly does summer camp pay?"

"Couldn't really say. It depends on how many kids come and stuff like that."

Conversation shifted gradually. Molly hadn't seen her friends in months, and a surprising number of things had happened since their exams period had ended.

They moved to the sitting room, wine glasses in hand, and Molly knew what the topic of conversation would be. She watched Meena open her mouth and grinned as she spoke, "So?" asked Meena, "Who is it and how long has this been going on?"

Catherine's eyes whipped to Molly.

"All right," Molly relented, "Just before camp started I was at the supermarket and I saw this boy I went to college with and I, well, I accidentally called his name - really, we weren't even acquaintances - and I was just surprised to see _someone_ I knew. So we walked around the shop a bit and when I was leaving he invited me over that night. We, we ended up sleeping together because he said he'd always fancied me and I had always thought he was fit. And he's a bloody fantastic kisser… And then we did it twice more that night…" Molly trailed off, a grin on her face as she spoke.

"And?!" Catherine demanded, "That was weeks ago! Those love bites are _not_ old!"

Molly laughed at Catherine's hysteric tone and spoke again, "Uh, well, a day later he met me on the way home from camp and he brought me to this hidden spot and went down on me, and it's kind of been our thing. We fool around there almost every day. It's such a sweet spot - it's in an empty field and here is this clump of trees and we go in there…"

"Did you go today? Is that what those are from? What? Do you just get off and come here without showering? Wow, Molly, I feel so special. How completely disgusting!"

Molly's head fell back in laughter, she _just_ heard Catherine shout "Meena!" in a scandalised tone.

"No, no! We didn't go today, don't you worry Meena."

Meena's mischievous eyes met hers, "Only joking, Molls."

"I know," Molly answered, a smile on her lips as she sipped her wine.

Catherine spoke again, "So, do your parents know about this boy?"

"Oh! His name is Sherlock. No, _my_ parents don't know, but his certainly do."

"Oh, did they hear you squealing?" Meena asked.

"_No_, they did not hear me. I can be quiet. No, his mother walked in one morning, like, two seconds after I got dressed. He thinks his mother is clueless because he came up with a 'brilliant' reason for my being in his room at half-six in the morning. But I would bet anything that she is more than aware."

"Men," Catherine muttered incredulously to herself.

"He is sweet, though. And good in bed…" Molly trailed off again before she could become moony.

There was silence for a few minutes before Meena piped up once more, "She's not going to mention it but I will – Catherine had a date last week!"

"Did you? Tell me!" Molly demanded.

Catherine's nose scrunched slightly before she spoke, "Yeah, a girl from work. I don't know, though. We had fun, but I don't want a journey down the strictly 'bi-curious road.' We'll see."

"Would it be weird because you work together?"

Catherine shook her head, "She does mostly nights in a different department. We rarely see each other there. More when we have events and that."

The conversation moved on until Molly was yawning. The girls made their way to bed, or, in the case of Molly, to sofa. The promise of a full day with her friends fresh in Molly's mind.

* * *

Molly had only just finished her tea when Meena announced, "I know what we're doing his morning!"

Molly raised her eyebrows inquisitively, Catherine asked the question, "And what would that be?"

"You'll see! It involves shopping. And then we can go to lunch, and then someone else can decide what to do."

Molly could only grin.

An hour later the three girls were standing outside a lingerie shop "_Voila_!" Meena exclaimed, raising her arms in a grand gesture.

Catherine snorted and grabbed Molly's arm dragging her into the store.

Molly wandered about, searching or something, anything that would suit her. Of course she hoped what she found would be something Sherlock would appreciate, but he didn't seem to care what underwear she wore.

"Molls!" Meena called, waving her over, "What about this?"

"It's interesting," Molly commented as she approached Meena, "What's the occasion?"

"You tell me. I'm not buying, you are."

"_I_ am?"

"Yeah," Catherine chimed, "For your not-boyfriend."

"But… You – I…" Molly sputtered as Meena pushed the black fabric into her hands and directed Molly to the change rooms.

"If you don't like it we can find something else. It's on sale, in your size, and Cat and I can pitch in because we didn't get you a birthday present."

Molly looked back at her friends, feeling very much like a deer in headlights.

"Go on," Catherine urged.

Molly sighed and entered the room, "Do you want to see?" she asked as she closed the door.

"Only if you like it and we can't see your bits," Meena answered, "We love you, but not that much."

Five minutes later, Molly stood inspecting her appearance in the mirror of her change room. She did like how the top made her breasts look, though she suspected the lace was not covering her 'bits' enough to show Meena and Catherine. Molly fingered the ribbon tie that lay against her sternum and smiled, it did look quite nice. Light, black fabric flowed about and framed her body, and though it looked odd paired with jeans, she knew the matching knickers would do nothing but add to the look.

Nodding to herself, Molly pulled the ribbon open and slipped the garment from her body. She redressed quickly and left the change room, lingerie in hand.

Catherine and Meena were waiting just outside her door, "You didn't like it?" Meena asked.

"No, I did," Molly replied, "You just asked me to not expose you to my bits."

Catherine giggled, "So, you're getting the set?"

Molly nodded, smiling as Meena grabbed her had once more, this time pulling her toward the check-out.

* * *

Meena and Catherine walked Molly to the train station the next afternoon. They had had lunch near the lingerie shop and went shopping for the afternoon. The evening saw the girls at a club where they danced and sang (and drank, probably too much). They had hung-over brunch in a cafe across the street from the flat, and managed to have s a spa day in the few hours left until Molly's train.

All in all, Molly had had an amazing visit.

* * *

Notes:

Sorry if the British don't use either supermarket or check-out. I think I recall hearing or seeing supermarket used in a non-American setting before, and to be honest, I couldn't even think of a better word than check-out in a Canadian context, let alone a British. Sorry again!

Two more chapters left! xx


	9. Baby's in Black

**Baby's in Black**

Sherlock knew immediately that Molly was hiding something from him, he just could not deduce what. When he picked her up after camp the Monday after her return he could see it on her face. But, he reasoned, it was not serious or troubling… If it were he would see it without really paying attention. No, this was something of little true importance that she would tell him about later, when she was ready. For now, he was interested only in whisking his Molly off into their field and turning her into a babbling, incoherent mess, if only for a few minutes.

* * *

When Friday rolled around Molly had skipped to meet Sherlock and launched herself into his arms. He could only gasp as she ground herself against him while kissing his cheek and ear playfully.

"I have a surprise for you," she purred as she pulled herself from him. Sherlock kept his arms around her waist a moment longer to brush his lips against hers. He knew there was a smug expression on his face when he pulled away – deducing as he had that she had some sort of news for him.

"What kind of surprise?" he asked, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and beginning to walk.

"My family is away tonight and tomorrow night."

Sherlock grinned down at her, "Is that an invitation to spend that time with you?"

"Why yes. Yes it is."

"You and I? Alone in your home?"

"I know," Molly replied, nudging Sherlock with her hip, "It sounds awful, but I think we can tolerate each other's company if you come over after dinner."

"After dinner?" Sherlock complained.

"Yes, after dinner. That'll give my parents time to leave and me time to get ready."

"Get ready?"

"You asked me to keep plush toys from staring at you, I'm only being courteous."

"Very well," Sherlock conceded with a smile, "After dinner."

* * *

Sherlock knew his parents' eyes were fixed on him and his constantly moving limbs. He was restless and had an hour until he could go to Molly's house. He also knew what his parents were thinking.

"I'm not high; you can stop trying to see my pupils and exchanging 'knowing' looks."

"Then what the devil is wrong with you?" his father asked, mystified.

"Nothing! I'm… Bored."

His parents exchanged another look and went back to their dinners. Sherlock could only scowl into his plate and wait until seven o'clock.

After several long minutes of silence, Sherlock spoke again, "I won't be home this weekend."

"Where are you going?" his mother asked sharply, "What about the strawberries?"

"Picking ended today, it's over. I'm going to Wiggins' and in the morning we're going to London."

"What's in London?"

He considered telling her something obvious: Buckingham Palace, perhaps the Queen. He thought better of it, "There is an exhibition at one of the museums. Corpses and the like."

Sherlock watched his mother raise an eyebrow and could see her disbelief, but ultimately her decision to drop the topic.

* * *

At a quarter to seven o'clock, Sherlock left his parents and made the short journey to Molly's.

He hadn't needed to knock; Molly was opening the door before he reached it, a smile on her face. Sherlock returned her smile, it seemed it was infectious, and followed her into the large house.

They stood in the entryway for a few moments, unsure of what to do with their total, complete, and guaranteed privacy. Finally, Molly pulled him into the sitting room, pushing him into a large plush chair before settling on top of him. Sherlock groaned as her mouth pressed to his. He wrapped his arms around her, one about her waist, the other her shoulders.

Sherlock eventually lost track of their kiss. He stopped thinking, stopped calculating, and instead focused on Molly. He focused on her soft lips moving over his skin, her chest pressed to his. He focused on the feel of her body under his hands, concealed only by her shirt, and the soft firmness of her bottom as his hands roamed about. Sherlock let himself growl as Molly ground her pelvis against his and coaxed mewls and breathy moans from her using his hands, lips, and teeth. In short: it was heaven, _she_ was heaven. And when she broke away from him, when her lips were no longer in reach of his, he was disappointed. Sherlock knew the look in his eyes must have been desperate. Molly smiled down at him, seeming sympathetic to his plight, "Ready for dessert?" she murmured.

"Oh, God yes."

They hurried up the stairs and into her room together. However, when Sherlock pulled off his shirt, Molly stepped away.

"Get undressed," she said huskily, "I'll be back in a minute."

He looked after her before following her direction. She probably needed the loo, he reasoned. He stripped and sat on her bed feeling decidedly out of place, though slightly relieved Molly had put her plush toys away. He wondered idly if she felt out of place in his room. Certainly not anymore…

He was pulled from his pondering by the sound of Molly clearing her throat. He looked up to find her standing just inside her door, decorated in black fabric. Sherlock felt his mouth fall open momentarily before quickly gaining control of himself once more. Well, control of _most_ of himself.

Molly walked closer to Sherlock, her body language somewhat unsure but purposeful, "What do you think?"

"You…" Sherlock managed before clearing his throat. His eyes roamed from the ribbon closing the flowing top to her lace-clad breasts, and down to her matching knickers which had a sweet satin bow just below her belly button. "You look amazing."

Molly smiled and Sherlock watched her eyes glance down to his hardening cock.

"Turn around for me," Sherlock spoke gruffly. He watched her move slowly, revealing her knickers to be a thong, the top's flowing material framing every part of her perfectly.

Before should could turn to face him, Sherlock grabbed Molly by the waist and pulled her to him, eliciting a happy squeal from the magnificent creature before him. His mouth latched on to her neck, his hands slid up her body to capture her lace covered breasts, and let his cock become trapped between his body and her soft, round arse.

Molly gasped and moaned as Sherlock' hands and lips worked over her body, her hands grasped his thighs deliciously. The only things rushing through his head were expressions of gladness, happiness. Expressions of utter, glorious thrill.

Sherlock worked Molly until he knew she was almost painfully aroused, and then moved them both to the middle of Molly's bed. Molly produced a condom from some unknown place and handed the package to Sherlock. She watched greedily as he rolled the condom over his cock, thrusting into his hand a few times until Molly pushed him to his back and straddled him. She pushed her knickers to the side and slowly sank onto him. Sherlock groaned loudly as his cock sank into her body and watched her deliriously as she adjusted to him. When she began to move, one hand grasped her hip while the other pulled at the ribbon of her top.

Sherlock thrust up into Molly as she worked above him, her breasts bounced deliciously while he watched her lose herself to her pleasure. Soon, Sherlock could concentrate on nothing apart from her slick heat surrounding him and her loud squeals filling the house.

Soon, Molly's movements began to slow and Sherlock seized his opportunity. As her hips moved roundly against his groin, Sherlock let his hand trace lightly from its place on Molly's hip and up, over her torso to cup the nape of her neck. He pulled her down to him and pushed her lips to his in a deep, breathless kiss. Their mouths worked together desperately as Sherlock's hands pressed her body against his, his hands around her waist, her hips. Molly moaned into his mouth as Sherlock began thrusting furiously up, into her body until finally he felt her muscles clench around his cock. Her face went into the crook of his neck as her cunt fluttered around him, as she came undone around him. Sherlock lasted only a few thrusts longer before he growled her name, emptying himself in her sweet body, hands clutching desperately at her flesh.

* * *

Notes:

In short, Sherlock definitely gets to see Molly's new things :)

Originally the very last paragraph didn't exist, I literally just wrote it. I realised I hadn't actually written a full -cough- love scene since the first chapter, so, there it is! Hopefully it works well with the rest of the story!

As always, I am on tumblr at elsiebubbles - though I'll admit I have been neglecting it a wee bit.

xx


	10. I Want to Hold Your Hand

**I Want to Hold Your Hand**

Sherlock woke Sunday morning to sunshine lighting Molly's bedroom. A quick glance told him she was asleep still, wrapped in his arms, tangled among the bed sheets. He smiled as his hand stroked Molly's back, snippets of their weekend together flitting through his mind. It was a soft yawn that shook him from his reverie.

"Good morning," he murmured.

"Morning," she replied, her cheerful voice thick with sleep, but sunny nonetheless. Sherlock released her long enough for her to squirm to face him before recapturing her. He felt his heart flutter as he watched her stretch within his arms.

"Sleeping alone tonight will be awful," Sherlock murmured.

Molly said nothing; instead she wiggled closer to press her lips to Sherlock's neck.

They lay together in silence for some time until they were interrupted by the ringing of a telephone downstairs. Molly sighed and rushed from the room. Sherlock slowly began the process of getting up in Molly's absence, grinning as he spotted several small bruises on his chest. He hadn't properly looked in a mirror over the last few days, but he was sure his neck was in a similar state.

When Molly returned to her room she slipped into a dressing gown and spoke, "That was my mum. They're leaving now. Should be home in an hour or so…"

Sherlock hummed, pulling on his t-shirt.

"Don't you want to take a shower?"

"Can't," he replied, "I have just over an hour to get a few things ready and then I'm picking you up for a date.'

"A date?"

"That is… If you are agreeable, I'd like to take you on a date. For lunch. And if I leave now we can both get ready without distraction, and I can pick you up after you've seen your family."

He looked at Molly expectantly until she nodded, "All right, sure. I'll see you soon, then."

Sherlock grinned at the happy expression pulling across Molly's features, "Soon," he returned, moving to leave the room. He pressed a gentle kiss to Molly's lips and quickly left.

* * *

Freshly showered and clothed Sherlock rushed about the kitchen while attempting to put together a lunch for himself and Molly. He had laid several things on the kitchen island and stared uncomprehendingly.

"Ah! Sherlock! How was the museum?" his father's voice rang from behind him.

"Excellent," Sherlock replied, "Very stimulating."

"And I suppose those bruises are from bed bugs in the hostel linens?"

Sherlock glanced up at his father and tugged his collar higher, "Yes."

His father shook his head, a smirk on his face, "Why do you need all that food? What are you doing?"

"I'm conducting an experiment.

"_Sherlock_."

He sighed, "Fine, I'm making a picnic lunch for myself and Molly Hooper. Or, rather, I'm trying to."

"She's not tired of looking at you?"

Sherlock glowered before getting back to his ingredients.

"Here," his father said, grouping everything together, "Sandwich; wash these grapes and take them along, and take some berries. There are bottles of water in the refrigerator you can take."

Sherlock nodded and muttered 'Thanks' as he set to work making sandwiches. His father clapped him on the shoulder as he moved through the kitchen.

* * *

When Sherlock arrived at Molly's door she greeted him as quickly as she had Friday night. Sherlock heard himself gasp as he saw her, a flowing yellow sundress covered her body, her hair was loose but for a headband with a floral bow. She looked radiant.

She called her 'goodbye' to her parents and skipped lightly from the single step and onto the path. Sherlock felt and overwhelming need to anchor her to him, to keep her close. He kissed her gently; a single, soft kiss to her sweet lips. When he pulled away, her eyes were fluttering open. Sherlock's hand skimmed down her arm and clasped with hers and they began their walk.

He took Molly to the park, holding her hand all the while, only separating to lay a blanket between two flower beds and to pull their food from this bag. When they each had their food in hand, Sherlock's free hand sought Molly's again.

"My parents know," Sherlock said at length.

"You mean now _you_ know that they know," Molly teased. Sherlock grinned and pulled her hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her knuckle.

"Mine probably know, too. My mum went in my room when I was in the shower. I hadn't put the sheets in the wash, so I imagine the smell was rather potent."

Sherlock snorted in laughter as Molly grinned, "You'd better hope she doesn't rummage through your rubbish bin. There are… _Several_ used condoms wrapped in tissue buried in there."

They laughed together, hands clasped, and enjoying the company of one another on their first official date.

* * *

Notes:

So, that's it, really. I haven't written more. I do have an idea for a follow up but I'm in school, and have a few other, unrelated ideas, so I don't really know when I'll get to do this follow up. Hopefully soon! Oddly enough, the main idea for the follow up is what lead me to write this, but it wasn't really working with the rest. Life is funny, haha.

Thank you all so much for reading and commenting and favourit-ing and all that lovely, amazing stuff!

xx


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